


Someone Who Wanted To Be Free [ I ]

by barkingbird



Series: A New Start In Enderal [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Enderal (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:40:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barkingbird/pseuds/barkingbird
Summary: Not all days are worth remembering, especially not that specific one.As a beaten and bruised ex-wench and dancer she tried to rebuild her life, but as it turns out, life rarely works in one's favor. Yet again the young Nehrimese woman Kaminka throws away what was once hers and heads into a new direction, a new life. To Enderal.The Story of the Prophet starts at the very beginning. But this isn't the story about the Prophet alone. This is a story of someone who wanted to be free.





	Someone Who Wanted To Be Free [ I ]

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning.
> 
> Turns out my first attempt at publishing something on ao3 is going to be a contribution to one of the lesser known fandoms on here. This one will be part of a small series I wanted to hold on to since I started the game. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it! 
> 
> PS: If you haven't already, check out this amazing Skyrim mod (Enderal), it really is worth playing!

**Blackness. Though the sounds accompanying it were a lot less plain.**

She could hear faint whispers, until she realized that they weren’t whispers at all. They were screams, simply echoing dull as if they were coming out of a tunnel or cavern. One of them she recognized.

The Apothecarii.

As she opened her eyes again, they were gone. In fact, the entire camp was gone and replaced by a different one, likely belonging to a different person too.  
Night has shifted to dawn, her half-closed lids now accustoming to the change of light. She couldn’t move a muscle even if she wanted to. Everything hurt.  
The flash, she remembered. How it flung her back into a thicket as the two travelling alchemists were wrought asunder by another burning hail of arrows coming from the other side of the river. There was no way they survived that. But how did _she_?

The bandits. They took her with them, no doubt. And the gods only knew what they planned to do with her now.  
It didn’t take as long as she had feared to reclaim her senses and though her vision was still blurry, she knew that her location couldn’t be that far from the original campsite. Then she sat up. Her head stinging and pulsing with a strange warmth, making it harder to concentrate or even focus her vision.  
Opposite of her stood a tent, between it and her a campfire with equipment scattered around it. It seemed the bandits in Enderal were a lot less careful than the ones in Nehrim.  
  
Good for her.

Next to the sounds of crackling fire and early birds there was no hint of life anywhere near her. That meant, if she was lucky, they’d left only one or two guards behind. And those were out of her reach.  
In protest to her aching sides and throbbing head she stood up, carefully, not to make a sound that could alarm any unsuspecting bandits. Her glance shifted from left to right and as she was assured of herself being the only one in the open, she moved. Tormenting screeching flooded her scalp with every move worse than any hangover she’d ever fallen victim to. What in the name of the sun did those bastards do to her? Through the flames she caught the glimpse of a scheme. Thin and long, leaning against the side of the tent, barely any longer than her forearm.  
A blade, she thought. Unguarded. Perfect.

Without hesitation she stumbled her way around, grabbing the weapon with her most intact hand. The choice wasn’t hard, since her right one was obviously broken. With her breath so hitched and sight splintered there was more than enough need to hurry. Her next stop was the tent. It was made of thin leather and linen-weave, almost unused and completely intact. Whoever these scoundrels were, they had money. Money enough to be slavers? She had to find out more. And quickly. The sun was rising higher as she worked her way through the tied entrance. There was a sharp pain as she steadied herself. Trying to make at least some use of her mangled hand, she held the knots and cut them open. After her work was done, she grunted, louder than she wanted to, due to her dry throat. She hadn’t eaten in days. She couldn’t even remember the last time she—

She halted her breathing. Somebody was inside. Asleep, but nonetheless dangerous. And careless.  
She squinted her eyes and crawled halfway inside, dagger already drawn and angled. A man, about her size and armored in clothing she didn’t recognize. Her eyes flipped through the belongings that surrounded them but she couldn’t make out anything that seemed like weaponry or documents. All he had with him was a small backpack, a few neatly packed rolls of pelts and ropes and the clothes on his back. Was he alone out here? Where were the others? Had they already sold her to… to him? It didn’t matter, too many questions clouded her mind and he was the only person around to answer them. The only vulnerable person, anyway.

She wouldn’t hesitate. One knee burrowed into the back of his spine, meeting the hip bone, her broken hand weakly holding onto the dagger and her left grabbing him by his throat, holding it in a tight and unfaltering grip. She quickly caught his gasp halfway up, pulling all of his upper body back onto her, now readying the weapon. She saw his arms flail up, desperately trying to find the source of his demise and she let him do so. They found her hand replaced by a blade, holding his just as tightly. Though it likely hurt her more than it did him.

“Woah, easy there!”

“Shut it.” She answered with a hiss. Her healthy hand tied both of his arms behind his back in an angle that would make it hard for him to free himself without moving his head.

But oh, she only waited for him to try. A few seconds had to pass before he dared to speak again.

“There you go, try to be helpful for once Jespar, it’ll be fun Jespar. I should really stop listening to myself…” It took her a while to realize that this wasn’t directed at her.

“Never met a bandit who fancied monologueing with himself at the verge of death.”

“Lady—“, he croaked, trying to turn his head only to be met with more pressure to his throat, “—I am just as surprised as you are, believe me.” Her patience started to run out, as was her pain tolerance.

“Quit joking and start telling me who you are and what you want with me!”

“… What, like this?”

“You _deaf_?!”

“Okay. Calm down…” The man cut himself off with a sigh. “I saved you… from the campsite. Do you even remember any of that?”  
It was impressive how calm he remained through all of this. He was trained. Alone. Only now it dawned on her.

 _Mercenary_.

She forgot. She didn’t say anything as her mind spun questions and answers alike, flooding her already tired skull more than she needed right now.

“… Your hand. It needs attention if you don’t want it infected and bleeding by tomorrow evening.” He spoke, quieter now.  
There was a hint of concentration in his voice she only picked up as it was already too late. The man pressed his chin between his neck and the knife almost effortlessly now that her hand was giving in, flipping it up to his mouth and knocking her out with the back of his head. It all happened fast. Painless.  
And welcomed was the solitude that followed as the pain finally left her mind.

Well, in no scenario did she expect that to happen, that was for sure. What she expected even less, was to wake up again. The same spot as before, only now it was nighttime. And she wasn’t alone.

“So...” the stranger spoke, not even waiting for her to come back to full consciousness. He was seated in front of her, the campfire behind him making the man look dark and featureless. She couldn’t move yet, too heavy the remaining fog of sleep and, likely, the effect of several herbs to keep her calm. Come to think of it, she couldn’t even feel most of her body parts, including her head.

“Heck of a wake-up call you gave me. But I don’t blame you.” There was no way of knowing if his face shifted to a smile or frown.  
“But, alas, before you try something like this again, don’t. Instead you could try to be thankful or… well, at the very least considerate.”

She gave a nod she couldn’t feel, but her eyes wandered like she expected. Here was to hoping that nodding even had the same meaning in Enderal.

“Very well. I may not know what you’ve been through but I can imagine the welcome my fellow countryman must have given you. And I’m very sorry about that.”  
His words rang hollow and slow. No matter their meaning, he was obviously just trying to soothe her. This guy just reeked of good intentions.  
Her mouth opened, but it was hard to bring out any coherent sound or phrase at first.

“… Did my accent give it away?”

“What, the fact that you’re a Nehrimese refugee?” He chuckled in response. “Quite, actually.”

She used the coming silence to regain control over her upper body and sat up. He sat closely in front of her, which made it easier to pick out his features one by one. Short, white hair. A beard on a pointy chin. A soft, slim face with big, gleaming blue eyes adorning its center. And he was smiling after all. She gave herself the freedom to stare at him openly, speaking up only after she had taken her time.  
He let her, made no fuss about it.

“Why DID you save me? It obviously wasn’t the smartest decision on your part.” He cocked his head as the smile shrunk to something more serious.

“That’s… a good question, actually. I couldn’t just leave you there, I think.” That’s right, the thicket. The events of the past moon came flooding back to her. He saw that she wanted to speak up, so he answered her question before it was even out of her mouth.

“And before you ask, yes, both apothecarii are dead. Why didn’t I save them? Well for one, I was mercilessly outmanned. Not the heroic answer you were probably looking for but it’s the truth nonetheless.” He looked surprised as she simply nodded again. Then the silence returned.

“You must be hungry.”

“What’s your name?” They talked over each other in the exact same moment. But he was the one to give in.

“Huh, alright. Let’s start with introductions. My name is Jespar Mitumial Dal’Varek. Jespar for short.”

“Dal’Varek? Sounds like a noble family’s name.” He halted her question with a silent cough.

“You first, fair lady.” He didn’t just… Did he? He didn’t.

“Kaminka.”

“Pleased to meet you. Well, this time, anyway.”

 


End file.
